


Feel the Black Reaching Out

by nagi_schwarz



Category: Firefly, NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Stealth Crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 09:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13073829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Leroy Jethro Gibbs, captain of the Firefly-class ship The Kelly, is learning to wrangle his crew, his passengers, and the Companion who falls somewhere in between.





	Feel the Black Reaching Out

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the unparalleled Brumeier for helping me get this across the finish line. This story got away from me and she brought it back.
> 
> Written for the What If AU Challenge #8 Space AU.

Gibbs came awake when there was an almighty crash in the corridor outside his quarters. He was on his feet and out the door, pistol in hand.

“What _the hell_ is going on here?”

Kate and Ziva were squared off, both with pistols drawn. Ari stood behind Ziva. Abby and was hiding behind Kate, eyes wide. She had rags in her hair for curlers. McGee was hovering between Kate and Ziva, hands raised in a placating gesture.

Kate’s grip on her pistol was unwavering, but she was breathing hard. Afraid. “Keep your brother away from me.”

Ari’s expression was blank, unreadable, not quite empty.

Ziva’s dark eyes flashed. “You know he is not well. You must have provoked him.”

“I did not,” Kate spat. “Your brother ain’t right in the head and we all know it.”

Ducky shuffled out of his quarters, blinking owlishly without his glasses. “Please, can a man not have peace to rest?”

Kate pointed her pistol at Ari, who ducked his head and clung to Ziva’s back. “He was in my bunk. He tried to kill me.”

“He did not mean it,” Ziva said. “He was having a - bad dream.”

“Or maybe a good dream,” Tony drawled.

Everyone turned.

Tony stood at the entrance to the crew quarters, one hand in the pocket of his suit, looking boyishly handsome, hair perfectly coiffed and not like he’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed, which they all knew he had. He looked Kate up and down. “I’ve always said you’re pretty easy on the eyes, and poor Ari, locked away in that school of his -”

“They were experimenting on him,” Ziva cut in sharply.

“He probably didn’t get to see any fine specimens such as yourself,” Tony fished. “Give the kid a break.”

Gibbs had chosen Kate as his first mate because she’d served honorably in the war, not because she was pretty.

But no one - least of all Gibbs - was oblivious to the fact that all of the women on his ship were beautiful. Every single one of them, from Abby the cheerily macabre mechanic to Kate to Ziva, who officially acted as one of the crew’s hired guns (but had, Gibbs knew, extensive combat training from the most frightening special and classified forces in the Alliance).

The most beautiful of the entire crew was Tony. He had his wooden box of tea implements tucked against his hip, which meant he’d come here as soon as his shuttle had docked, alerted by the commotion. But he looked completely unruffled, as if he’d just happened to be strolling by.

Ari said, “I’m not a child.”

A furious flush rose in Kate’s cheeks.

Gibbs broke in. “Enough.” He looked at Ziva. “You keep your brother under control.” He looked at Kate. “You keep your pistol under control. Everyone else: bed. Now. We all have an early start.”

They were docked on Persephone, and Gibbs had never liked lingering on central planets any longer than necessary.

Abby nodded, wide-eyed, and ducked back into her bunk. Ducky withdrew and closed his door. McGee started to obey, but neither Kate nor Ziva were lowering their guns.

“That wasn’t a request,” Gibbs snapped.

Ari put a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

Kate finally lowered her pistol, and Ziva did the same, retreated to the space she shared with Ari, never turning her back. McGee heaved a sigh of relief, turned to his own quarters once both pistols were down.

Kate slammed the door to her quarters.

“Whose bed?” Tony asked. He and Gibbs were the only ones left in the corridor.

Tony looked good enough to eat, but it was his job to look like that.

“Your own,” Gibbs said firmly.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Gibbs didn’t bother with an answer, returned to his own quarters, flung himself into his bunk. It took him longer than he’d have liked to fall asleep.

*

Gibbs was always the first person awake. He set the coffeemaker going, the one concession to culinary luxury aboard the _Kelly,_ and made the rounds. Abby was the next person awake, shuffling into the galley still in her nightdress, cap, and curlers. She helped herself to a mug of coffee, presented her cheek to Gibbs for a kiss, and then shuffled back to her quarters. Gibbs had once witnessed her startup routine for an early morning take-off. It was like a dance, Abby flitting around the engine room, turning on this, firing up that, adjusting those, all the while applying her lipstick, combing her hair, lacing herself into her impressive thigh-high boots. There was no one else in the universe who could do what she did.

McGee was the next to arrive. He helped himself to a mug of coffee, saluted Gibbs with his mug and a murmured _Boss,_ and headed for the cockpit. Then he doubled back and started up the kettle for Ducky’s tea.

Gibbs listened to the engines hum, listened to McGee talking to himself - he had a series of toy elf figurines in the cockpit that all had names and personalities, and he tended to narrate their conversations during his flight checks. Once the kettle was boiling, Gibbs set a mug of tea to steeping for Ducky, and then it was time for the final inspection before takeoff.

There was a routine to it - Gibbs walked the perimeter of the ship in the bay, made sure there were no tags or trackers or other pieces of Alliance tech planted on his ship. Then he headed back into the ship and inspected the cargo bay and the entirety of the interior - other than the occupied quarters - to check for stowaways. This trip they weren’t taking on any passengers, had some meds to deliver to one of the rim planets, and the meds had a short shelf life, so they had to get moving.

“Got an incoming wave,” McGee said as Gibbs swept past.

Gibbs returned to the cockpit, leaned in to see.

Captain Nate Ford of the smuggling vessel _Leverage_ had a line on a piece of intel Gibbs had been interested in. Not something he was sending over an unsecured line, though. They needed to meet. The usual time, the usual place. Could he make it?

A certain Alliance bar on a certain outer planet on Unification Day.

“I ran the calculations,” McGee said, “and we can make it as long as we don’t stay on Verbena for more than fifteen hours.”

That was more than enough time to offload the meds and pick up some passengers.

Gibbs replayed the wave, studying Nate’s casual expression, the rest of his crew moving in the background, heard Sophie the Companion describing a contract with an Alliance officer of high standing, a man named Eli, and Hardison the mechanic’s question about a certain school for future Alliance operatives, and knew Nate had information about the people who’d experimented on Ari and wanted him back.

 _Can you make it?_ Nate asked.

Gibbs fired back a brief wave. “Yes.”

There was commotion in the cargo bay. This time Tony was standing between Kate and Ziva, hands raised in a placating gesture.

“Ladies, please.”

For one second, Gibbs was appalled. Were they fighting over Tony?

But then Ziva reached past Tony and jabbed Kate in the shoulder. “You are responsible for this.”

Kate swatted Ziva’s hand away. “Me? Why would I go anywhere near your brother? If he’s lost, it’s all your fault. You heard Gibbs last night. You’re supposed to keep your brother under control.”

“You were the one who let him loose,” Ziva said. “You know he is not safe on his own. It is better for you if he is gone.”

“Just because I’ll sleep better knowing he’s nowhere near me doesn’t mean I let him off of his hamster wheel,” Kate said. “Everyone else is better off, too. Why don’t you accuse one of them?”

“Because they would not harm Ari.”

“Just because I’m the first mate and combat officer doesn’t mean Abby and McGee are incapable of or unwilling to defend themselves from the kind of threat Ari poses.” Kate lifted her chin, her eyes glittering with challenge.

It was Ducky who said, “Ari would never abandon you, not willingly. You’re family.”

Ziva sighed. “But if he is confused, he could be lost.”

Gibbs’s security sweep was for keeping people and Alliance things out, not keeping people in. “When did you last see him?”

“I was brushing my teeth,” Ziva said. “I looked away from him for one second, heard Kate’s footsteps outside my door, and then he was gone.”

“How do you know they were my footsteps?” Kate asked.

“I know what everyone’s footsteps sound like.”

“How long ago?” Gibbs pressed.

Ziva checked her watch. “Fifteen minutes at most.”

“Search the ship,” Gibbs ordered. “Now. You too, McGee. And Abby.”

“I’ll go check my shuttle,” Tony said and turned away.

They searched every inch of the ship again, high and low, shouting for Ari. There was no sign of him. Eventually they assembled at Ziva and Ari’s quarters.

Ducky was already there, trying to calm Ziva.

“Think about places he liked to go when he was a child,” Ducky said, voice calm and soothing. “Places he enjoyed or that he perhaps sneaked off to visit before.”

“He’s not a child,” Ziva snapped.

“Ducky?” Gibbs asked.

It was Kate, who was standing beside Ari’s neatly-made bed, who said, “Pretty sure he left on his own. Bed’s made. Toothbrush is damp. Shoes are gone. Counted through his clothes - he’s in a fresh change of clothes for the day, assuming one change per day since his last laundry day.”

“I’m not saying he’s a child,” Ducky said. “But the things we experienced as children affect us for the rest of our lives. Humans are also creatures of habit. When we are distressed, we seek the familiar, however harmful or childish it may be.”

Ziva shook her head. “We were not raised on Persephone. We were not raised on any of the core planets.”

Gibbs hadn’t expected that, given their accent, which was predominant on several core planets, including Osiris. Ziva and Ari had been with the crew only three months, and they kept to themselves, and Gibbs did his best to keep to himself.

“What did he enjoy as a child?” Ducky asked.

“Music,” Ziva said. “We always enjoyed music, the three of us.”

Tony said, “Ari left on his own.”

Gibbs turned. How did Tony move so quietly? He adored being the center of attention.

“We’ve figured that out,” Kate said.

Tony leaned in the doorway, hands in his pockets, casual and insouciant. “But did you know he tailed Gibbs out of the hangar while he was on his usual security run?”

Abby turned. “How did you know that?”

McGee said, “Aren’t you glad I put that external security system on your shuttle?”

“I am eternally grateful, as is Ziva, I’m sure.” Tony fixed his gaze on Ziva. “He was headed away from the docks and toward the central plaza.” Then he looked at Gibbs. “I reached out to Jenny at the Training House here, asked her to have the other girls and boys keep an eye out for him.”

Ziva’s eyes went wide. “You told other people about him? Are you insane?”

Tony straightened up. “I told Jenny to keep an eye out for a guy who had a few screws knocked loose during the Unification Wars. Might have strongly implied he’s harmless but prone to violent outbursts when he has a PTSD flashback.”

Ziva started toward Tony, intent on strangling him or worse, but Gibbs broke in.

“Jenny’s a smart woman, and discreet, and so are all of the Companions and Trainees who come out of her house. We can trust her to help us find Ari.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “You know Jenny Shepard? I didn’t think you could ever afford - oh.” He swallowed hard, and his expression went blank for a moment.

Gibbs had been around enough Companions to know that what went on behind that blankness was dangerous, either to the Companion himself or those around him.

But then Tony was smiling, sliding his gaze up and down Gibbs the way he did when he was trying to get a rise out of Gibbs. “But of course she’d choose you.”

Gibbs had also been around enough Companions to know that they were much accustomed to the discomfort, bigotry, and downright hatred that came their way, and they each had their way of dealing with it. Tony liked to challenge it, play off of the fact that people were often attracted to him and repulsed by his profession at the same time. Gibbs made sure that Tony assumed Gibbs was uncomfortable with the notion of Companions and wasn’t inclined to look much further into how Gibbs felt about a specific Companion.

“Jenny’s a useful connection,” Gibbs said sharply. No need to add _that’s all._ “Everyone, put the word out to your people on Persephone. Ziva, what kind of music?”

He led the way to the cockpit, and people took turns sending waves. McGee sent waves to his fellow pilots he knew were docked on Persephone - John on the _Atlantis,_ Evan on the _Orion,_ Jack on the _Homer,_ Samantha on the _Schrodinger,_ Cameron on the _Heliotrope,_ Dean on the _Impala._ Since Abby knew the mechanics on all those crews, she didn’t bother to wave them, trusting their pilots would talk to them, and instead reached out to the mechanics on the local ground crews, Bobby (Dean’s Uncle) and Michael (rumored to be gunrunner Fiona’s gentleman du jour for many many jours) and Older John (Dean’s father). Kate reached out to some hitters she knew who ran security at various venues across the city, Buffy and Faith, Echo and Victor, Charles and Spike and Angel, Steve and Kono. Ducky reached out to some physicians he knew, trusted friends at hospitals and a few at street clinics, where Ari might go if he were hurt - Jordan, Temperance, Leonard, Max.

Gibbs didn’t like waiting around, didn’t like it at all. The clock on the meds for Verbena was ticking. And with Ari on walkabout, Ari who the Alliance desperately wanted back lest word of their hideous human experimentation got out, chances of having a nasty confrontation with Alliance forces increased exponentially.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was on the right side of the law, but during the Unification Wars he’d made something of a name for himself with his talent with a long-distance rifle, and rumors had persisted long after the war’s end about who’d had their names written on the bullets that came out of his rifle, mostly high-ranking Alliance officers.

Ziva said, “Ari played the piano, when we were children. I do not know if he kept up the practice after he was taken away. He always wanted to be a doctor, and doctors must have steady hands, and his mother thought that playing the piano would help him have steady hands. She was a doctor as well. She had steady hands. She was an artist. She painted beautifully.” Her gaze went distant with memory, with pain.

His mother. So Ari was only a half-sibling. Whose mother was dead.

“Boss,” McGee said, because Gibbs hadn’t been a captain during the war, and he wasn’t going to give himself a battlefield promotion now, “Abby and I can look up establishments that have pianos.”

Gibbs said, “Look up establishments that had pianos before they closed.”

“That kind of historical search will be a lot harder on just _Kelly’s_ systems.” McGee frowned.

Abby said, “Send a Wave to Ellie.”

Only Abby could call the famed hacktivist Universe by her real, mundane name.

Ellie answered the wave as she always did, absentmindedly, head bobbing to something only she heard on her headphones. Abby beamed and waved at the screen, and then Ellie saw her, smiled, tugged her earphones away and left them to rest around her neck.

“Abby, what’s up?”

“Hey, we need your help. Kinda mislaid one of our crew -”

Kate made a disbelieving noise.

McGee elbowed her.

“And we think he might have gone somewhere on Persephone that has a piano.”

Ellie was leaning in, and they could hear the sound of keys on a keyboard tapping even if they couldn’t see her hands. She liked her tech interfaces old-school - over the ear headphones, physical keyboards.

“That’s an awful lot of places,” Ellie said.

“Somewhere that’s either closed right now or closed down but probably still has the piano inside,” Abby said.

“That’s fewer places.” Ellie smiled. “How have you been?”

“Good,” Abby said. “Really good.”

“Sent you a list, names and locations, opening times of places still in business,” Ellie said. “Come see me sometime.”

“We will,” Abby promised, and Gibbs knew he would make it happen.

“Hope you find your friend,” Ellie said, and the wave ended.

A moment later, McGee put the list of places up on the display. He then transferred them onto a map of the city without Gibbs having to ask.

“McGee, take Ziva, head for the northwest quadrant of the city.” That was less populous, lest anyone recognize Ziva and start trouble. “Abby, Kate, you take the northeast.” That was a more populous section, and they’d blend in best, innocuous as a pair of girls from the rim playing tourist. “Ducky, you take the southwest.” Ducky could be trusted on his own, and that was the medical district, where he’d blend in best if questioned by Alliance forces. “Tony, you’re with me.” The southeast was the most populous section, and since the Training House was there, Tony would afford Gibbs a certain security.

“Radio check-in, every twenty minutes,” Gibbs added. “You know the drill. Go.” He turned to Ziva. “In the next three hours, we’re lifting off.”

“But -”

“Hundreds of people need what’s in our cargo hold,” he said.

Ziva’s eyes went wide. “What about leaving no man behind?”

“We won’t leave him behind,” Gibbs said. “We’ll find him.”

“We will, Ziva. Come on,” McGee said, and he headed for the hangar bay door.

Ziva stared at Gibbs for a long moment, then turned and strode after McGee.

Tony was wearing a casual suit, not the very fancy kind he wore when he went to meet up with a client, but it was still perfectly tailored to his body, and he looked like he was just enjoying a nice stroll along the docks. Gibbs fell in beside him.

Their first stop was a music conservatory, more for musicians than singers. In the summer months the students were sent back to their families to relax, and the place was quiet. Gibbs and Tony split up, circled the place, checking for any sign of breaking and entering, listening for any music, but the place was silent.

Ari was smart. Whatever they’d done to him in addition to experiment on him was train him. Kate was good. Ziva was lethal. Ari was a walking weapon.

And also just a boy.

The windows and doors were all locked. The doorknobs had a thin layer of dust on them, as the did the windowsills. No one had been here in a while.

Gibbs caught back up with Tony on the main thoroughfare.

“Place is practically a tomb,” Tony said. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”

“You sound like Ducky.”

“The man’s a doctor, not a shepherd. Shepherds don’t have the corner on death.”

They certainly did not.

Churches were next on their list. It was Tony, not Gibbs, who remarked on the irony of the the concentration of churches in the same quarter of the city where the Companion Training House was located, but then it was usually Tony who remarked on anything when it was just the two of them.

“Churches on the rim don’t have pianos,” Gibbs said.

“Really? Voices or nothing? There’s something to the pure simplicity of acapella, I suppose. You sing?”

“No.” Not for other people. Just Kelly, when she’d had trouble going to sleep.

“Some of the churches here have organs,” Tony said. “But piano skills don’t automatically translate to organ skills.”

They stood at the back of a massive cathedral, rainbow light spilling over them from a rose window, and gazed at the array of organ pipes at the front of the quire. Tony inquired of the shepherd whether he’d seen anyone matching Ari’s description. The shepherd, wary but polite, indicated that he had seen no one besides some of his regular parishioners that morning.

Tony thanked him, and they went on their way.

The rest of the crew checked in regularly, but there was no sign of Ari.

They were headed toward the Training House, would veer off before they reached it, and head for some establishments down some side streets, establishments where there had been some measure of live music, including some piano bars that were shut down during the day.

Gibbs was listening to a check-in from Abby - the others had established a check-in rotation on their own, first McGee, then Ducky, then Abby - when a woman sang out,

“Tony, darling, what a surprise, to see you again so soon.”

Gibbs turned, wary at her tone.

Tony’s smile was bright and charming. The woman who approached him was beautiful. Not all of Tony’s client’s were. She had light brown hair streaked with gold, pale blue eyes, was built like a dancer.

“Jeanne,” Tony said. “I just can’t stay away.” He crossed the street to her, pressed a kiss to her cheek in greeting.

She wore a sleek silver gown.

“Tony?” the man beside her asked.

Tony pulled back from Jeanne. “Rene,” he said. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Rene was tall, broad-shouldered, at least two decades Jeanne’s senior. “I did not realize you knew my daughter,” he said.

“Daughter?” Tony echoed. “Of course. I always thought your elegance was familiar,” he said to Jeanne.

Jeanne looked much more surprised than Tony did.

Daughter and father were both clients of Tony’s.

Gibbs had always known that Companions were free to seek clients of whichever gender they chose, but he’d never known Tony to accept contracts from men. Perhaps he’d never dared let himself know, lest he hope. The time for certain kinds of hope was past.

Jeanne cast her gaze over Gibbs. “Apologies - I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“We’re not on a date,” Gibbs said. “Tony is a regular passenger on my vessel.”

Jeanne looked relieved. If Gibbs cared about her, he might have been insulted. But of course he wasn’t the kind of person Tony would - or should - spend personal time with.

Rene raised his eyebrows. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs.”

“Rene Benoit.” Gibbs inclined his head in acknowledgment. The Frog. He’d been an arms dealer in the war, had played both sides against the middle. Obviously he’d come out on top.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised, you two together,” Rene said. There was a certain weight to his words that Gibbs couldn’t quite read.

Tony’s composure remained flawless. “Mr. Gibbs runs a tight ship, and I appreciate his hospitality. Unfortunately, we must depart. Have a wayward crewmember to catch.” He bowed over Jeanne’s hand, brushed his lips over her knuckles, shook hands with Rene. “I’ll send a wave when I’m back in town.”

He put a hand on Gibbs’s shoulder and steered him away. Gibbs glanced over his shoulder, watched Rene and his daughter till they turned a corner, out of sight. And then he and Tony headed down a side street and through a series of piano bars.

Everyone else was reporting in no sightings, no word, no hints. Abby and McGee were rustling the people they’d waved earlier, including Ellie.

It was Tony who heard the music first, soft piano notes.

“Here,” he said, pausing beside an open window.

It had been forced open recently, the dust along the sill disturbed.

“You sure?” Gibbs asked.

“Reveries.” Tony tilted his head, smile fond.

“What about them?”

“That’s the name of the song he’s playing. From Earth That Was. One of the few that has survived.” Tony went to climb in through the window, heedless of the dust, but Gibbs put a hand on his arm.

Who knew what kind of mood Ari was in, if he was playing a song about memories. The song was beautiful, but Ari’s memories were anything but. If he was lost in a reverie, he was dangerous.

Gibbs climbed in first. Tony followed, perfectly soundless.

The place had been a nice enough bar once. The heavy wooden bar along one side of the room was covered with dust and broken glass. The rest of the furniture was overturned and broken. Only a single chair and table remained upright.

And the piano in the corner, slightly out of tune, notes twanging sourly.

Gibbs cleared his throat.

Ari said, “No,” and didn’t stop playing. His hands moved over the keys, and he swayed with the melody. He looked like he’d been born to play.

Tony said, “Your sister’s worried about you.”

“She feels guilty about me.”

“She can feel both.” Tony edged closer to Ari, still perfectly soundless. “You need to come with us. We can’t leave you here - you’re ours now. And we can’t stay. The people on Verbena need the medicine we’re carrying.”

Ari shook his head, and his hands faltered on the keys. “No. I can’t - I need to make it go away. All of it.”

“You can’t make it go away,” Tony said quietly.

Ari was off the piano bench and in front of Tony in a flash, a hand at his throat. “What would you know about it?”

Gibbs started toward them, alarmed.

Tony grasped Ari’s wrist, twisted. Ari flowed with the movement, and there was a flurry of blows, strikes and counter-strikes. They spun with each other, a macabre, violent dance, and then Ari snaked an arm around Tony’s hand, dropped his weight, and Tony was on the ground. Ari was on top of him, forearm locked across his throat.

“You!” he snarled. And then he paused, really looked at Tony. “You.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He sounded - tired.

Gibbs had one hand on his pistol, his knife in his other hand, ready to separate them.

But Ari eased up, let Tony breathe. “How -?”

“There’s no rule that Companions can’t also be soldiers,” Tony said.

“You weren’t a soldier, you were -”

“I was a soldier, but I wasn’t on the front lines. That wasn’t what I was good at.”

“You were there.”

“I was.”

“You saw me -”

“I did. Felt her warm blood on my face, too. You’d made an impressive shot.”

“You chased me for days. You couldn’t catch me.”

“I didn’t have to.”

Ari buried his face in his hands for a moment, took a deep, shuddering breath. “You said we can’t make it go away. Why are you like - like that and I’m like this?”

“They didn’t do to me what they did to you,” Tony said. “And I was a Companion, before. The first and last lesson is control. Of self. And sometimes that means letting go.”

Ari stood up, legs shaky as a newborn colt. Tony rose, dusted himself off absently.

“I’m no shepherd, and I’m no doctor,” Tony said. “But there’s hope for you. For all of us.” He offered a hand. “Come with us?”

Ari clung to Tony’s hand the way he clung to Ziva’s when he was at his most confused, and he nodded.

Tony smiled grimly at Gibbs and said, “Tell Ziva,” and his smile gentled for Ari, and he said, “Let’s go.”

Back at the _Kelly,_ Ziva hugged Ari very tightly for a moment, then scolded him in their shared language and then, once she remembered their audience, retreated inside for further reunion.

Gibbs ordered McGee and Abby to get the ship into the air. Kate was helping Abby in the engine room. Ducky wanted another cup of tea. Usually Gibbs stood in the cockpit with McGee for takeoff, but this time he followed Tony back to his shuttle, paused on the threshold.

“You fought in the war,” Gibbs said.

Tony paused, turned to look at him, blue eyes shadowed. “Yes I did.”

“You were one of Jenny’s -” Spies. Informants. Assassins.

“Yes I was.”

“Then you know about...me.”

Tony nodded.

Gibbs studied him. “Is that why you chose my ship?”

“No,” Tony said. “I chose your ship because I know you run a tight crew - a loyal crew, like a family. And I wanted some of that. Companions are just that - companions. But not family.” He turned to go.

Gibbs caught his wrist. “I thought a Companion was allowed to keep whatever company he wished. Allowed to have whatever relationships he wished.”

“Allowed by Guild rules, perhaps, but rules aren’t people. It’s not enough for me to wish a relationship - the other party has to wish it too. That’s why we call it a contract.” Tony slipped free of Gibbs’s grasp and turned to go once more.

Gibbs started to follow, paused. “May I?”

Tony looked at him. “May you what?”

“May I enter?”

Surprised flared briefly in Tony’s eyes, but then he nodded graciously, stepped back. “Of course. Shall I fix us some tea?”

“No, but thank you. I prefer coffee.”

“I have coffee as well.” Tony moved through the shuttle gracefully.

He never appeared to move much faster than a casual stroll, but he was swift. His coffee machine was even nicer than the one Gibbs had in the galley, and he’d spent more creds on that thing than he’d ever care to admit.

Gibbs had been in Tony’s shuttle many times, had noticed its elegant, minimalist masculine furnishings, every line and curve and color and texture designed to set people at ease. He’d never appreciated how much thought Tony must have put into the place, because it wasn’t just calming, it was Tony, his space, an extension of him.

Tony gestured for Gibbs to have a cushion at the low table in the center of the main living space, then vanished into the tiny alcove off to one side that functioned as his barebones galley. He returned a moment later, and the scent of percolating coffee drifted after him.

He sank onto one of the cushions opposite Gibbs and looked at him. “You don’t often knock before you enter,” Tony said, an observation rather than an indictment of Gibbs’s manners.

“I’m a little rusty, but my mother raised me right.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

Gibbs never spoke of his family, his silence on the subject very deliberate.

“What is it you want to know?” Tony asked.

Gibbs blinked.

“About my time in the war,” Tony clarified.

Gibbs knew more about Tony’s time in the war than Tony realized, because Gibbs knew Jenny Shepard. Even if Gibbs had never known Tony by name, the webs he and Jenny had woven had inevitably involved Tony and everyone else like him, everyone else in Jenny’s carefully maintained network of shadows.

“I’m not here to interrogate you,” Gibbs said.

“Then why are you here?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to read the people around you?”

“I doubt the best Companion or spy in the world could read you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. You’re color to the blind, music to the deaf, touch to the insensate. But then that’s how you like it.” Tony caught his gaze, held it for a moment. Then he rose up and went to the galley.

He returned a moment later with two mugs of coffee. He handed Gibbs the nicer one, kept the poorer one to himself. It was handmade, the glaze chipped in places. By a child’s hand, perhaps. When Tony lifted it to drink, Gibbs glimpsed initials carved into the bottom. TD.

He’d never imagined Tony as a child. Tony had stepped into the world fully-formed, beautiful and full of charm.

They both drank in silence, feeling the shuttle around them shift, the air change as McGee took off, launched the ship into space.

“I wouldn’t say like.” It was all Gibbs knew. It was what had kept him safe after Shannon and Kelly died, during the war, after the war.

“If you don’t like it, you should change it.” Tony shrugged delicately.

Gibbs knew the insouciance in his tone was feigned. He said, “I’m trying.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. He set his mug down, studied Gibbs. “How’s that going for you?”

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee, caught Tony’s gaze, held it. “Better,” he said.

Tony studied him right back, then nodded. He sipped some of his own coffee, cleared his throat. “My mother died when I was a kid. Dad shipped me off to the nearest Training House as soon as I was old enough. Every time I saw him at a party, he had a new wife. These days not even he could afford me.”

Gibbs could only begin to guess what a client had to pay to get even an hour of Tony’s time. He knew what Tony was giving him now was something no amount of money could buy. He nodded, sipped some more coffee. “Do you still talk to him?”

Tony shrugged. “He sends me a wave once in a while. Usually when he wants money.”

Gibbs had no doubt Tony always gave it to him. There was a bit of a cliche in Tony. He had a heart of gold. Despite all he’d done and seen, he was a fundamentally good person. “You play the piano.”

Tony glanced over his shoulder to what Gibbs had always assumed was a desk but was actually a square piano with the lid closed and some captures on display instead of sheet music. “Yes.”

“You’re good enough to know Debussy when you hear it.”

“You know who Debussy is.” Tony looked surprised and impressed. Not much actually impressed Tony, though he was good at looking suitably awed when a client was showing off for him.

Gibbs smiled and drank some more coffee. “I do.”

“Do you want me to play for you?” Tony shifted, made to stand.

Gibbs shook his head. “No. Maybe have Ari play for you sometime. Or for Ziva.”

“Think that’d keep the crazy at bay?”

“Kate would take him down if it didn’t.”

Tony chuckled into his mug. “So true.”

Gibbs studied him some more. “Ari didn’t hurt you, did he?”

Tony lifted his hand to his throat briefly, then shook his head.

“I wouldn’t let him hurt you,” Gibbs said.

Tony looked at him for a long time. “I know,” he said finally, with an unfettered trust Gibbs hadn’t seen from another human being in a long time.

Gibbs finished his coffee slid the mug across the table. “Thanks, Tony.” He stood up.

Tony rose with him, showed him to the door. “Any time, Gibbs.”

Gibbs paused at the threshold. “Call me Jethro.”

“Jethro.” Tony tested the name. “I’ll work on that.”

Gibbs nodded, turned away, went to check on the rest of the ship. Ziva was with McGee in the cockpit. Ari was helping Ducky in the infirmary. Kate and Abby were taking turns in Abby’s hammock that she kept hanging in the engine room when things were looking dire on a long flight.

So Gibbs went and settled into his quarters to clean and service his weapons, and read, and ponder the problem of Ari and the Alliance.

*

Gibbs came awake when there was an almighty crash in the corridor outside his quarters. He listened to the shouts and arguments, familiar footsteps, how the voices softened to whispers and hisses, to _Don’t wake Gibbs._ The voices turned to soft and soothing notes, and he heard more footsteps, heard the crowd outside his door dispersing. Good. They were learning to get along.

He closed his eyes and counted his own breaths, an old soldier trick for when even an old soldier was having trouble falling asleep.

He heard his door hiss open.

He opened his eyes.

He heard the door hiss closed, then nothing. Nothing. Then,

“Jethro?”

“Tony?”

“Can I sleep here tonight?”

Gibbs scooted over to make as much room as possible on his narrow bunk, patted the space beside him. The mattress shifted beneath another person’s weight, and then Gibbs’s bed was filled with human warmth.

Tony pressed close, burrowed into Gibbs’s embrace. He was trembling, Gibbs realized. Not shivering, but shaking, like a lone leaf on a bough in an icy breeze.

“If you want to talk,” Gibbs said, “I’ll listen.”

Tony whispered, “Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can still feel her blood on my face.”

“What was her name?”

“Dana. Dana Hutton.”

Tony talked, and Gibbs held him and listened, and Tony ran out of words, and Gibbs held him, and eventually, Tony fell asleep.

Gibbs lay awake and listened to him breathing. Tony wasn’t part of his crew, not the way Kate and McGee and Abby and Ducky were. But Gibbs was responsible for Tony in a way he hadn’t been before. He knew Tony felt responsible for him, for the rest of the crew too. And he deeply suspected that whatever Nate Ford had to tell him would inevitably lead to Ziva and Ari becoming part of the crew as well.

Gibbs closed his eyes and listened to Tony’s soft, easy breathing, and slowly fell asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the full lyrics to the Firefly theme song.


End file.
